


Side Tracked - Protection

by Aurora_bee



Series: Side Tracked [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark, M/M, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurora_bee/pseuds/Aurora_bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John wonders how Sherlock got the scar on his jaw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Side Tracked - Protection

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't my regular sort of fluffy fic sorry. Just an idea I had to get out.

Sherlock lay on the sofa, his head on John lap as they watched TV. John ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair as he traced every line of the detective’s features in awe at his beauty. His fingers came to rest on a small scar on Sherlock’s jaw, it was old, barely discernable in the light. But he could feel it, and Sherlock must have felt it too. John found himself becoming angry at the fact that something hurt his ‘Sherlock'.

“Sherlock where did you get this.” John asked as he ran his fingers over the scar. Sherlock turned his head looking toward John.

“Someone hit me when I was 7, broke my jaw.” Sherlock listened as John’s breathing grew harsh. “It was an accident John.” Sherlock could feel John tense, but he could say nothing else on the matter. It wasn’t his secret to tell.

 

He was at home alone playing in his bedroom when he heard the muffled cry.

“Nooo..” Someone said. It was coming from Mycroft’s room next door. Sherlock was a brave little boy even at 7 he knew when something was wrong. However he hadn’t developed a sense of fear. The doctor mummy had sent him to said something about a personality disorder. He opened his door and made his way over to Mycroft’s room. He turned the knob, and it was locked. That had never stopped him before though. He took a bit of wire out of his pocket and slipped it into the hole for the key. It made a lovely clunk as the lock released. Happy with himself he flung open the door.

Mycroft was on the bed his head pushed into his pillows his trousers on the floor. Another boy stood behind him thumping himself against Mycroft. Sherlock stood his ground.

“Geroff my brother!” The boy turned around and pulled up his pants.

“Piss off you little shit.” He smirked. Sherlock ran forward screaming and bit him on the top of the thigh. “Ah fuck you little bastard!” Sherlock could see Mycroft coming toward them hands outstretched. The boy punched Sherlock across the face sending him flying across the room into Mycroft’s dressing table. Sherlock blacked out.

 

When Sherlock finally opened his eyes it felt like his head was going to explode. He could see Mycroft punching the now unconscious boy and his fist was bleeding. There was blood everywhere especially all over his own shirt. He touched his jaw, ‘owe’ that hurt a lot. Mycroft turned to Sherlock his eyes full of tears.

“Oh Sherlock, I’m so sorry.” He pulled the bedclothes back and sat Sherlock on the bed. They could hear Mrs Welling thundering up the hall toward them. Mycroft kissed his brother on the head. Tears filed Sherlock’s eyes, the pain and seeing Mycroft get hurt was too much. Mrs Welling rushed over to Sherlock.

“Oh my god, I have to call an ambulance.” She looked over at Mycroft and the blood soaked boy.

 

No charges were ever brought. The boy it turned out was one of Mycroft’s classmates, one he called a friend. The one who’d helped him realise his sexuality, and shared chaste kisses with. Mycroft had looked him up the moment he became ‘the government'. Oddly it was around that time he was found dead in his flat a needle in his arm. Heroine overdose the police report said. Mycroft knew better. No-one touched his baby brother.

Mycroft watched the feed from Sherlock’s flat. After Sherlock had told him, John had stiffened and had wrapped his arm around Sherlock protectively. A good man Mycroft thought to himself turning off the feed.


End file.
